


Come Again (When You Can't Stay So Long)

by Giddygeek



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Imported, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-31
Updated: 2014-07-31
Packaged: 2018-02-11 03:40:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2052192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Giddygeek/pseuds/Giddygeek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If there's one thing Rodney's learned about being imprisoned on other planets, it's that any change in the guards' routine spells trouble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come Again (When You Can't Stay So Long)

The first day of Rodney's confinement on Ilsacha, Sheppard comes by with some clothes, a bar of soap, a pen, and his battered old copy of War and Peace.

"Is this supposed to be a hint?" Rodney asks, waving the book at him. As part of the conditions of his punishment, he has no idea how long he's supposed to be jailed.

Sheppard looks uncomfortable. "No," he says slowly, fingers curling around the bar closest to the one Rodney's leaning against. "Sorry. I didn't think of that. I just thought, you know, entertainment." And, as Rodney opens his mouth to protest, "Entertainment that's not electronic. Rules are rules, or something." He grimaces a little when Rodney glares at him. "Sorry, buddy."

Rodney sniffs. "Yes, well. It will make a handy weapon, should one of the guards attempt anything."

Sheppard steps closer to the bars in an instant, fingers tightening, eyes dark and fierce. "Rodney--"

"No, no," Rodney says, rolling his eyes. "The bed is a nightmare and the food is worse but it's not like that, I'm not--"

"Good," Sheppard says, and steps back. His hand brushes against Rodney's arm, so light it almost tickles, giving him goosebumps. "I'll do everything I can to keep it that way."

"I'd rather you do everything you can to get me out of here," Rodney says, but Sheppard is already striding down the hall; long, purposeful strides like he can't wait to escape.

Rodney knows exactly how he feels.

*

The second day, Sheppard brings some Powerbars, a thermos of coffee, a cinnamon roll, and Rodney's pillow from home. He passes them through the bars silently, then leans against the wall across the narrow corridor.

Rodney arranges everything neatly on his thin mattress and the small tray that serves as his table, then leans against the bars again. "I'm guessing that if I were going to be in here long, you'd space your visits out better."

"Can't say," Sheppard says. Rodney tries to decide if the fact that he nods his head four times is a sign; even Sheppard's body language isn't usually that loquacious. But when he raises his eyebrows, Sheppard only shrugs. He asks, "You need anything else? I'm not really allowed to keep you company, but if you want--"

"A lock pick and some C4," Rodney says immediately. "Or a massage, a hot bath, my own bed, and a thorough delousing. Not necessarily in that order."

"Can't help you with any of that," Sheppard says. There's nothing in his voice to indicate it, but it's there in his eyes; he regrets not being able to get Rodney out then and there, bring him home.

And so he should, since it's his fault Rodney's locked up in the first place.

"I hardly expected you could," Rodney says. He braces his forearms on the crossbar, dangling his hands outside the cell. Across the hall, Sheppard's eyes track across his wrists, his fingers. "Well, in that case I suppose...bring me...a shrubbery."

Sheppard's eyes flash up to his, and he smiles slowly; a rare smile, one that lights his face. He gives Rodney a sloppy salute, and Rodney is certain it's no coincidence that Sheppard turns so that he arm brushes against Rodney's hands.

"You got it," he says over his shoulder, eyes still warm. Rodney nods imperiously instead of smiling back, because the guards are watching, cold and disapproving, and that's what got them into trouble in the _first_ place.

*

"I was going to bring you a shrubbery, then I thought a snack would be better," Sheppard says. "But it turns out, elderberries are kind of a Milky Way thing." He passes Rodney a large plastic bag filled with the nasty-looking brown berries that passed for cherries in Pegasus, although they were sweeter and juicier than Earth cherries tended to be.

They're worth _gold_ on Atlantis; gold and porn and everything but chocolate, since anyone who knew anything ate them together and okay, where was--

"Chocolate?" Rodney asks, eyes narrowed.

Sheppard stares at him. "Well, I'd have _tried_ to get chocolate too, sure, but I thought I'd avoid actually handing someone my kidneys so you could have a snack. Jeez, Rodney."

"You owe me," Rodney says, grimly. "I'm only in here because you--"

Sheppard looks around, horrified. "Do we have to go over that _again?_ "

"--and in front of _the tribal council_!" Rodney finishes, triumphant in his irritation. "The _least_ I deserve is chocolate, and if it cost you a kidney, that's no less than you deserve."

Sheppard heaves a sigh, but he's digging in the pocket of his tac vest and, yes, there it is; Cadbury, even.

"This must have cost you a _lung_ ," Rodney says, but he takes the chocolate. After all, Sheppard's inability to keep his hands to himself after a measly half a shot of Ilsachan liquor had been pathetic, _and_ had landed Rodney in this, this _cell_ , so far from his labs and his whiteboards and mattress and moderately more appealing meals.

Still. He hadn't exactly been fighting Sheppard off, had he?

Rodney breaks off a square of chocolate and offers it back to Sheppard, who takes it delicately, fingertips brushing Rodney's. Then he opens the bag of cherries and leans against the bars; Sheppard hesitates, then leans against the other side, eyes on Rodney's face.

"Cherries?" Rodney asks, offering them, and they share the fruit and chocolate in silence until the guards come in to hustle Sheppard away.

*

On the fourth day, when Sheppard shows up with more clothes and a toy Ronon carved, a logic puzzle made of wood and metal that looks like an octopus hugging a miniature city, the guards follow him down the hall.

"Thanks, guys, but I know the way," Sheppard says, voice casual and mildly bemused, but his body tight and tense. Rodney tenses up too, clings to the bars; so far everything has gone fine, he's been fed and watered on a regular schedule, and they'd even brought him an extra blanket when he asked. But if there's one thing he's learned about being imprisoned on other planets, it's that any change in the guards' routine spells _trouble_. In general, it spells, _disaster_.

Rodney's had enough of disaster for one week, thanks.

The guards stand between Sheppard and Rodney, implacable and silent, refusing to explain. Rodney paces back and forth behind the bars, sneaking looks around the guards' broad backs to see Sheppard looking more and more furious, more fierce by the moment. "C'mon, guys," he's saying, cool and calm as a grenade about to go off. "I'm just bringing some stuff for my friend. Your boss already searched it. And I haven't been any trouble, right?"

" _We_ haven't been any trouble," Rodney says, voice high and tight, nervous, and Sheppard flashes him a dark look; as if Rodney can spend time worrying about not drawing the guards' attention when he is _locked up_?

Sheppard eyes him for a long, warning moment, then smiles at the guards, leaning back against the wall across the corridor, slouching and loose-hipped, as if to say, "I am a harmless, harmless deadly weapon, don't you pay me any mind." For some reason that works a lot of the time, as if many of the people of Pegasus are too used to the honest brutality of the Wraith, and they don't know how to deal with even the thinnest subterfuge. But the guards don't relax at all, and the situation devolves to a frustrated Sheppard crossing his arms over his chest and glaring while Rodney paces and worries and tries to talk them out of whatever they've decided. If they decided it; if not, Rodney would like their supervisors' attention. Now. _Now_. _Immediately_.

Just when Rodney's about to throw War and Peace at the back of one of the guards' heads, the door at the end of the hall opens.

The leader of the council strides towards them, her long, flowing skirts whispering across the stone. She is dressed all in black, which Rodney tries not to see as ominous; in Pegasus, grey-greens are the colors of danger, echoing Wraith skin, and mourning is often represented by blue, for a water burial or cremation, or brown for a grave.

Rodney presses himself against the bars of his cell as she stops beside Sheppard, looking at him with wide, serene eyes while he blinks at her, insolent and angry.

Then she turns to the guards, lifts her chin. "Release him," she says, in her rich, gentle voice. "The offender has proven his devotion admirably. They are free to leave."

Rodney gapes. He stares at her with his mouth open, his hands wrapped around the bars, and then looks wildly back at Sheppard, who has straightened up, hand hovering over his empty thigh holster, as if he suspects a trick.

"Wait, wait," Rodney says, "No, don't wait, unlock the--yes, thank you. But are you trying to tell me that I'm in here to punish _Sheppard_?"

She raises her thin, plucked eyebrows at him, gently derisive. "How else were we to know if his kisses were honorably given, or a ploy for your chastity?" she asks, as if that's a _reasonable question_ , as if--

"I don't _have_ any chast--" Rodney says, huffy, and Sheppard interrupts him, clapping his hands together with a sharp sound and saying loudly, "Yes, totally devoted; no one is as devoted as I am. Rodney, say thank you to the nice lady for helping us figure that out and let's just go, _okay_?"

It physically hurts Rodney to stop defending his un-chastity, but he smells, and he wants meatloaf, and his bed is calling his name; he can hear it. And, looking at Sheppard over the guards' shoulders, he thinks he might have something even better than food and sleep waiting for him at home.

"Yes, yes, I'm not stupid," he says. "Thank you, yes, let me out now, thank you. Great uniforms. Love the dress," and Sheppard has him, has his arm, as soon as Rodney is clear of the wall of man-meat that is the guards. They hurry down the hall to freedom, and Sheppard's hand slides down, over Rodney's wrist, to cup his, to twine their fingers together.

"I'm proving my devotion," Sheppard says, when Rodney looks at him sideways. He's bullshitting for the guards and the councilor, but as the door opens and Rodney smells fresh air and sunshine for the first time in days, Sheppard's fingers twine through his, and oh. Oh. He _is_.

"C'mon," Sheppard says, smiling as Rodney tightens his grip on Sheppard's warm, strong hand. "Let's go home."


End file.
